


Talk ----- to me

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4785875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanley wants Fiddleford to talk dirty to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk ----- to me

“Talk dirty to me.” Stanley said with a sharp grin, his eyes taking in his lover’s sweat and red face.

“Wh-what?”

“Talk. Dirty. To. Me.” Stanley emphasized with harsh pumps. Fiddleford gasped, hypnotized by Stanley’s rough voice.

“I - I’ve never done this before.” Fiddleford gasped. He brought his hand up to readjust his glasses, his eyes bright and jumpy behind the small rims.

“C’mon,” Stanford sank to his knees, his breath ghosting over Fiddleford’s dripping cock. “Try it.” He gave one lick, his eyes staring soulfully into Fiddleford’s own.

Fiddleford gulped. “Suck me off.” He commanded, biting his lip to stop the please that wanted to come out. He fisted the couch cushions beneath him, feeling the fuzzy fibers between his fingers, and felt his breath hitch as he heard the tell tale sign of Stanley’s zipper coming undone.

“F-faster.” Fiddleford said, squeaking as Stanley did just that, bobbing his head with a punishing rhythm. Fiddleford let his legs widen just a little bit and watched. He didn’t know what to do next. Caught in new territory, Fiddleford lifted his hands above Stanley’s head and waited for a sign.

Stanley gave him one. With half-lidded eyes he stared at the hands until Fiddleford placed them on his noggin. Not pushing, just resting. It was surprising how just by resting his hand on Stanley’s head he got a new perspective at how fast and hard Stanley was sucking. He wanted to tell Stanley to take it easy but somehow he didn’t think it would work with the scene they were trying to set up.

After a few long and arduous seconds of nothing but the sound of Stanley’s wet mouth slurping on Fiddleford’s dick and Fiddleford periodically saying, “faster” and “harder”, Stanley stopped. Fiddleford felt a little disappointed but at the same time relieved, the silent pressure was killing him.

“Come on Fiddleford, call me a slut or somethin’ I can take it.”  Again with that eager grin, covered with spit and Fiddleford’s own pre-cum. It had Fiddleford shaking as he tried to grant his lover’s wish.

Taking a deep breath, Fiddleford started, “Stanley you- you are such a,” here his voice trembled, taking a breathy whisper, _”slut.”_

And with that one word, Fiddleford Mcgucket covered his face with his hands and turned away, half of his face shielded by the couch’s back end. This was ridiculous, he had his pants around his ankles, his dick wet with his lover’s cooling saliva- he shouldn’t have been so embarrassed but he was.

Fiddleford heard the jingle of Stanleys’ belt buckle - could feel as his lover got closer.

“Fidds you were doing okay.”

No response, except to curl tighter in himself.

“Fidds look at me.” Large hands tugged at his own and forced them away from his face. Stanley was staring back at him with a searching gaze. “Fidds if it makes you uncomfortable we can stop. I didn’t mean to make you freak out.”

Fiddleford felt shame at the words ‘freak out’. He wondered if ending it was better. He didn’t want to leave it like this because he knew it was nothing huge to be embarrassed about, but at the same time he didn’t think the situation could be saved. And it was all his fault.

“Fidds look at me.” Stanford said and only then did Fiddleford realized he was staring at the open archway that led to the stairs. Guiltily Fiddleford looked at Stanley, his eyes alert where a minute ago it was glassy and filled with lust. His, long, drawn out frown tugging more heartstrings than saying the ‘s’ word.

Adjusting himself to face Stan, Fiddleford felt he got the right tone as he said, “Get back on your knees.”

Stanley didn’t move.

“You heard me.” Fiddleford said, he lifted his chin, and looked straight into Stanley's eyes. He tried to regulate his breathing but in the silence of the empty house, it seemed too loud.

“Are you sure?” Stanley said, his voice a soft whisper that ate at the nervousness in Fiddleford’s chest and stomach.

In response, Fiddleford let his legs open, his hand coming down to squeeze the base of his cock.

Stanley smiled, sweet as honey, and went back down, taking Fiddleford’s limp dick and coaxing it to hardness. Fiddleford didn’t hesitate to put his hand on Stanley’s head this time but instead of resting or pushing, he threaded his fingers into brown hair, raking his fingers back and forth.

Stanley moaned, his eyes sinking in pleasure. Fiddleford moaned in turn and let the words fall from his lip.

“You’re so good Stanley.” Fiddleford said, head bent over Stanley’s his fingers roving over scalp and hair. “So good ta me.”

“You’re so handsome and beautiful, I don’t know how you do it.” Fiddleford pushed back the hair that he’d been messing up and let his fingers drift down to cup Stanley’s hollowed cheeks.

Stanley moaned again, looking up to Fiddleford with adoring eyes.

“Ya even sound beautiful.”

After that it was endearment after endearment, as Fiddleford touched every part of Stanley that he could reach. His shoulders, his neck, the bottom of his throat, then back up towards Stanley’s head, never pushing but petting lightly. It wasn’t long until he came. With each word it seemed Stanley was determined to bring Fiddleford into a swift, breathless relief until no thought could ender his mind except for, “Stanley, Stanley, Stanley, I love you, love you, love ya, love-”

Or maybe that was said. Fiddleford wasn’t really clear in the last few seconds before the hot, white flash of relief. As it was, when he came to Stanley was stretching, his knees popping as he worked blood back into his legs.

“Sorry, I know that wasn’t exactly dirt talk.” Fiddleford said, absentmindedly rubbing his hands together.

“You kiddin’ Fiddleford? I haven’t come like that in ages.” Stanley slumped forward, a boneless heap landing on Fiddleford’s body. He spread out, which made it a little cramped on the small armchair, and trapped his boyfriend with neck kisses and nuzzling. Fiddleford only made faint protests, too busy rewinding Stanley’s last words.

Did Stanley really come from that? Stanley shifted a little on the couch, forcing Fiddleford to move his legs to make room. His socked feet hit a wet patch on the rug and in an instant he had his answer.

“Shoulda known you were a sweet talker.” Stanley said before Fiddleford got a taste of his Stanley’s mouth; hot tongue and bitter semen.


End file.
